Revelation Song

 

Bridge Over Troubled Water

 

Enya - May It Be

 

Megan Woods - The Truth

 

Phil Wickham - The Jesus Way

 

Plowshare prayer

There are so many people, so in need of love, truth, light and healing. Myself included. 

Sometimes it's easy to see other people's need for grace.

And forget to include myself in that.

Sometimes it's hard to see the truth behind all the masks. Sometimes it's hard to see that behind the stories we tell, usually there is great pain. 

A neighbor boy came by today, while I was playing koto in the sunshine. I had just bought a new/old koto with a beautiful covering. And the sound is so beautiful, and rich. I was really just appreciating the warm sun, and the beautiful sound.

The boy drove by on scooter, once, and then again, and he waved. And I waved back. He came over, and chatted. He told me stories, and he got this weird glint in his eye, and started telling me many naughty things he had done, or said he'd done, mostly I feel they weren't exactly true. It felt very---clouded.

 I believe his parents are divorced, and he doesn't have present mother to buffer his father's anger, and other naughty habits. And it is sometimes, so painful to feel into all of these things.

Painful to see at such a young age.

It feels like there are so many strong energies, and it causes something inside me to feel a great sorrow.   The many stories the mind tells itself. Trying to make sense of things.

Sometimes I have a hard time understanding many things.  

But I do understand that love is a beautiful thing.

The heart is my dwelling place. 

That is the highest realest thing I know.

And though the mind tells stories.

The heart knows that love is a beautiful space, a covering of grace despite all life's troubles.

This song found me today. My sister, Rochelle sent it to me. And it seems appropriate. 

For there are so many, so many hearts that are in need of great healing. Light, and truth, and presence, for a resurrection of all the beautiful bits of consciousness that forgot its goodness---a remembrance of the parts of our childhood selves, that knew we were worthy of love, and being loved, and that we are children of God.

Held always in his hands. 

A space of goodness. 

How beautiful it is when love is the space we dwell in.

How beautiful it is when love is loved. When healing, and peace is what we value. 

When children are loved. 

When we love ourselves. And give that truth away to each other.

 

   

Gods Promises | 100+ Healing Scriptures

 

The blessing---david arkenstone

 This song is so beautiful, and so meditative. For some reason my ear candling experiment upset me. Mostly because I wrote about whilst I was so exited about it, but didn't see all its hazards, didn't want anyone else to hurt their ears. And for myself, I had wax drip down into my ear, a little too warm. And that worried me, that it might not be good for someone else. I think it has pro/cons. But it's not super safe, I feel. 

 Perhaps there is something out there is more refined.

As for now, my ear candling, will be music. Best meditation. And warms the heart.

I don't reccomend ear candling.

 

(Update)

Since my last experiment I have concluded though an interesting meditation. I would not recommend ear candling. I believe the wax drips down from itself. And it's hot. Hence. I believe they are interesting. The smoke feels nice. But could burn you ears. )

Another song that found me

 

Giants

 

Unity

So, I thought I'd stop and take a snapshot of the abundance that has just floated in and is always such a fun surprise. 

Gifts that come.

Without any effort.

Just brought in. 

Beautiful things.

 Things I didn't now I liked.

When things like that happen, it feels like Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and Birthdays wrapped into one. 

And so abundant. 

My wonderful heart friend neighbor brought over a tea, on the 31st to help with headaches.  

She also made a shepherds pie. And we had a great feast.

Her husband sent my sister, and I a card, he drew. He is an amazing artist, and has a good soul, I believe.  He has had a hard life, and has been incarcerated, since he was young. He has beautiful handwriting, he's written several books. And our friend loves him. That I know.  I know she has appreciated the wisdom he has learned, by being where he is, and his is doing his best where he is at. I know she loves him dearly.  And seeing how unconditional she is, is beautiful. And that is beautiful to me. She is a good example of a mother. Loving.

I sent him a letter telling him of our summer adventures.  He also sent us another letter, and this beautiful picture of  woman, with an amethyst on her forehead.

What else has floated in.

So much...

My Sister Laurie found a place where they try not to waste food, and brought down heaps of chocolate chips, tons. And boxes and boxes of of sunflower lecithin.  

Tons!

So now we are mixing it with all our smoothies. And it's been quite fun. It's very good for you.

At the bird center, a man gave us flute-whistles and two harmonicas, and a kalimba.

 My neighbor who we've given massages to, came by with a squash that my mom had been craving. The kind she had just wanted.

My niece and Sister Holy came by, and brought by loads, of food---their neighbor harvests stuff that's a bit old at stores. And gives it away.

And it was good stuff.

Avocados, so many.

Kombucha. My sister and I love komucha.

 Almond milk.

Cake, and pastries. 

Cheese, so much cheese (this is from the cheese plant they get for a dollar a pound) 

Salsa, 

Dip.

So much.

So much overflowing that It's a little crazy.

So much so, it's a fun thing to get to re-gift to someone who needs, or wants it.

It feels like we've become a port, to receive, and also re-gift things. 

How fun it is. 

A thanksgiving feast.

Onions.

So much abundant harvest. That we didn't have to grow.

 And not just food. Moments to be seen, and digested. Beautiful snapshots of God showing off.

When they brought all this harvest, my niece brought her daughter Madeline down, (short for Mary Magdalene) who was just Christened at church the last Sunday before this one. She's so cute, and has red hair. I got to hold her, and she smiled, and giggled. So cute. I held her until she fell asleep. And just holding her, was interesting, because the heat we generated was a lot. 

After her her christening at he Church, there was 60 people crowded in my nieces little house. And it was so muchy.....

It was so, so many humans. But Bess and I hung out with the kids, and that was alright. But tiring. 

On the way home, we spied our neighbors house, covered in birds. I had my camera, so I thought I'd share it. It here. 

When I showed it to my mom, all she could say, was that's a lot bird poop going to be on that house. 

 

Seeing those birds on the roof, was one of my favorite bits about the trip. And sitting with my nieces out in a different old house next to the main, one, where they started a fire in the fireplace, and we sang a bit, and visited.

So, something randomly, and cute, was the gift they brought over--- this kombucha bottle caught my eye. 

Like spirit handed me a gift.

 

Some of the words on the bottle were so cute.  

"All the unexpected things that happen along the way. 

The synergy of music.

Transcends the sum of  its individual parts.  

Music has the power to bring us together and make us feel our most alive. The beats we dance to. The new friends we meet. "

Can you hear it, Inside this bottle is a synergistic symphony of beneficial microorganisms working concert to create the perfect kombucha. Their musical creation is the soundtrack to our health and happiness. 

 As I hold hands with my brothers and sisters, we are connected through, love compassion, and kindness. Our bond is built with respect, and equality, for e are stronger together than apart. The power of our unity allows us to overcome adversity negativity, and division.

Also that same night, of the gift of unity kombucha, pandora was playing this song. So I believe the message of that day, the snapshot. 

Unity.

There have been so many of these little gifts. And I don't know if I can remember them all to document. But I'll try to write the ones that stand out. Last month, on the 9th, our neighbor that invited us to all the music events of the past year, invited us again, to a Utah symphony. And gave us four tickets. 

We decided to go, and they gave t shirts away. 

 What was interesting about this concert, was that they were very skilled. 

And Bess and I were having fun commenting back and forth about the way the violinist played. And just experiencing it together.

When all of a sudden this guy randomly, in-between songs, comes over, and says, "You two are too noisy. Please be quiet!"

It was such a moment of shame for us.

We felt real bad. He was clear across the way, and I didn't quite understand that he could hear us. Maybe see us pointing a bit. 

Well, Bess and wanted to get up and leave. 

We hadn't thought we were noisy. Either way, I closed my eyes, and tried breathing slow, and tried not to feel the shame, as it seems anytime we Bess and I are together, people think we are noisy. And it was the feeling of it, felt violent. Or something of that nature. It just was hard. 

As I feel shooshed so much of the time. I don't know how to not feel shooshed. 

I just think our energy is noisy. Maybe?

Either way, I asked God to help me not be angry back in my heart. And we both thought back to the times we'd been the person who'd shooshed someone who didn't deserve it. 

 But it was hard--- the expansive me, felt smalled. Childish so much of the time.

Bess and I both tried not to close our hearts. And forgive. 

At the end, it was funny because there was a raffle, and I guess the guy who'd shooshed us, Won tickets to the next concert. 

He stood up, and Bess and I got a good look. And we both wanted to not rub shoulders again. But as it turns out, as we were walking out, and visiting, he found us in the parking lot.

And he apologized, and gave Bess a side hug.

And that was amazing too. That he had the awareness to say he was sorry.

He said he gets angry, and his kids were being noisy. And either way...Bess and I went home, a little confused. 

We hadn't planned on even going to this concert. We'd seen the advertisements, and said that unless God brought us there, we wouldn't go because the tickets were more expensive than we wanted to pay. 

And since mom didn't want to go, and my brother doesn't like concerts, Bess gave the two extra tickets to some friends in Fillmore.

 

So many bits, and knowings, and snapshots that seem like Spirit is saying, "Hi. I wanted  to stop in, and confirm that the music is still playing. Love is still singing. Just so you remember. God is still sovereign, conducting this whole show. Spirit is just sending you a little message to let you know, so you don't forget. That the grand conductor, is still at the front.

Still waving his hand.

And the angels are always singing.

Listen.

Hear the music. Feel the unity of the song that is being sung.

Even if you can't see it.

Your higher self sees.

And loves.

And always knows.

And holds space always open. 

But sometimes the me here. That sees the close up things.

Sometimes feels very confused.

And feels the close up things. Knows enough to know that love is the only place to look from. 

And that piece by piece, seeing by seeing.

Knowing by knowing.

We look through each others lenses to more fully understand, from all perspectives God's view. All the facets of life.

And give back the best snapshot of God we can while on this earth.

Sometimes God is smiling. Sometimes sad.

Sometimes doesn't know. Sometimes is lost. Sometimes is found.

 All pictures. But the best picture, think. Is when were are all together, in heart.

And maybe the photographer, takes a moment to zoom out.

To see all the eyes, and faces looking back at him.

And waits until everyone is focused on one point, waits until there are more smiles than frowns. 

Waits for those real bits to take a picture of.

To put on the wall. To remember the face of God, the family tree of humanity.

And give back what it is that is seen.

And so, as I try to have clear seeing.

I step back from the crowd, and stand in my heart. It is the only place I know where to stand. Where to see from.

To see with the eyes of humility, and unity, simultaneously with the sovereignty of the heart.

Into the knowing, of the one.

All things are dancing in God’s way. And perhaps, I was born, to maybe see it.

And write it down.

And see, how everything was orchestrated perfectly for you to wake up. Look, see, the music of spirit calls.

Even in the unconsciousness of humanity. If there is one soul looking.

One heart knowing.

God is.

Gathering all the parts of his body.

And loves each peace.

So many of us. I see we all did what we did, with the light we had to see by. And even when we have light, sometimes we don’t understand what it is we are seeing.

And so, I see that there is great need in this world for presences, and compassion.

A going back to those things that are soft, and real, and slow.

To reclaim our childhood, and our raw playful, ways of compassion, and sharing, and curiosity, and wonder.

To give back to ourselves those missing pieces that somehow got lost, or stolen. And so mostly, as I look, and see, my heart shows me things.

Knowings.

It opens itself up, like a playground, and sees how much need there is for space.

A safe place to play.

Grace.

And heart.

A mind rooted in God, and great humility.

And a higher seeing, from a heavenly mind.

Apples

 

Dear blog,

 

Hi...

My body is has been feeling so hot...

My heart so hot. 

Especially when go out with people, my body feels like it heats up. It's sometimes a bit uncomfy. 

I don't know how else to explain it.

It feels like my temple is cleaning itself.

For a minute, all is quiet. And it feels like these past few days have been holy days, days to look at and see, and have greater perspective on all that has happened.

Sometimes I feel strange. Because I feel afraid to communicate, or express myself. It seems so natural to share things with some people. And other times, not so much. 

So my throat chakra feels in need of balance. To allow my own truth, and a safe space in me to communicate. And it's something I get annoyed about. The best I know, is to be with my own fearful inner child, and allow the isnness of how I feel, without making it need to be different.

And I think, perhaps, the best is for me to look and listen without feeling that I have to push away words. Nor gather them in.

But look.

And that causes me to feel a bit better.

I had these huge guilt feelings, that didn't even make sense. It sounds silly but these feelings we so big. 

And yet they came and visited, and it was so not fun. But I see, that sometimes, my greatest truth, and the greatest truth anyone has ever spoken to me, was being a soft and spacious presence, that allowed and loved and just looked.

And what peace allowing brings.  

 My higher self. Who is wise, and spacious, and kind, and speaks truth with greater presence, is my solace, the throat chakra of inner stillness.

And that, is the greatest truth I've ever heard spoken.

Love, and grace. Light.

The trigger for some of these feelings, was I was wanting to load the truck full of branches that my brother had left on the lawn, he'd started trimming the trees. And I thought I should load them in the truck, and take them to the dump. 

It was dusk at the time, and I thought I'd just do it, and let Bessie rest, as she was in her zen place, and so much of the time is having to dance in form. 

So, I went alone, though I get a little scared, and afraid of going places alone, especially at dusk. But I told myself, that I am never alone, and it seemed like the right thing to do, so we could have a truck in case we needed to drive somewhere, because our other car randomly got a flat. 

So I went and unloaded the truck. There was another human there, a little odd seeming, but otherwise, alright. 

I unloaded it. 

But as I was driving home, I remembered my sister, and brother said they were giving away a bunch of apples at the church.

We all like apples, so I went, without telling anyone. I thought I'd be back pretty fast.

But when I pulled up, my uncle was there, helping, my neighbor, and the bishop, give away this huge bin of big, beautiful apples. 

I think he does this every year.

 These three, my uncle, A lawyer. One the current bishop. One past bishop, into politics, and farming.

Three people that have had a lot of influence in our community. Apples. 

And three people that I'd finally gotten to know a bit better this past year. Especially my uncle, who I have felt more connected to than I ever have at any other time in my life, as Bess and I have gotten to know him a bit better, than when we were kids, at least I feel through chiors, and music, we've shared a seeing space, where the heart shines through, more than the forms that we once took.

I was just going to get some apples, and go right back home. 

But I paused, and looked at them, and thought that I should stay, for a bit longer. I realized that they might need help loading apples. So I got in the truck, and helped box, and bag them. 

And it felt good helping, and seeing each other. And I felt for a moment we were just loading apples. And it was nice, doing a thing together. Something real. Sharing a space. 

Here there wasn't a politician, a lawyer, or a Bishop. 

But just us.

Apples.

And a shared space.

And that was nice.

Boys, much like my neighbors, digging in the garden. 

My uncle is learning the guitar, and we had fun talking about a guitar player musician called um... somebody Jimmy Emmanuel? I may remember in a minute.

I didn't leave until the apples were all in boxes, and bags. And they let me take some home, and some to my neighbor Amelia.

Around this time, I realized, I'd been gone for a little too long. And it was getting dark. And my mom, and sister were probably freaking out, because I had the only working car, and I had been gone for a while.

And they wouldn't have known where I was at, other than that I had gone to the dump.

I had my phone with me, while I was taking apples to Amelia, and tried calling home, and had seen I'd missed a call from my sister. 

Amelia didn't come to the door, so I left the apples. Bess didn't answer.

So hurried home.

And oh boy. Bess and mom were real worried, and I felt bad, as I had just gotten really into the moment, of loading apples. 

Sometimes I forget to communicate. Sometimes I get real focused.

Either way, I apologized. And realized my error, and totally would have been scared too if Bess hadn't told me where she'd be at. 

I guess she and Ameila were both ready to look for me. And my mom was real worried too.

They were pumped full of adrenaline.  

Oh dear. I totally understood their angst. And mostly, I realized that I am lucky to have people in my life, that worry about me.

Though, I don't know what happened, because later night I felt a strange overwhelming sense of guilt just float in.

Wow. It was interesting. I don't know if that's the right word. But it wasn't fun. No.

It was huge.

Like it had triggered a junk drawer of just old feelings of shame, and guilt. And where did it come from?

It was loud. And said I shouldn't have helped with the apples. And that I'd forgotten to wash my hands after the dump. And a boat load of things.

Things that were out were way out of proportion.

Stuff my higher self totally saw as just junk drawer stuff. 

Yet visitors like these are loud.

Should have's....

Should have washed hands kept floating in my mind over and over. It was a little paranoid. Too much.

Where was this all coming from?

Should haves.

Yet...

Sitting with it was like sitting with all my childhood should haves, halfs.

And just sitting with it was hard.  This mind storm. That pulls on things, and says so much. The funny thing is, I realize that this is old stuff.

But higher self, told me better. 

And sat with me. 

And the visitors, eventually came, and left. 

The heart knows better. 

 The higher seeing knows better.

And they are the keepers of God's temple. Not imposters.

And all the split pieces, the internal lawyer, and politician and Bishop, are the product of a split mind. And under grace, under that tree, and the fruit is oneness.

Under grace, masks fall off.

And the space within each is seen.

Grace washes all hands, and all feet, and covers all things. This union, and fruit, is beautiful.

It wasn't so much anything that happened. 

But an old energy came to be looked at, and asked integrated back into better seeing. 

The pieces of myself that needed a better looking at.

The tree lost boys of my own consciousness. 

Something that needed healing. 

My own politician, Lawer, and Bishop, and me being a space for that.

My higher self, my heart, parenting some part of me, bringing back pieces of my own self back to my own tree.

That under the tree of grace, and love, and truth, the trinity of spirit,  

Religion, the law, and the rulers, are absorbed back into union, of love. Back into a family of one.

That we are all one.

That we are just gathering apples, under the tree of grace. We are all one family.

We are one. One heart.

No need for splitting or cutting.

And sometimes we come home late.

And sometimes we forget to communicate.

And sometimes we don't always have perfectly clean hands.

But its our hearts that count.

And we are all trying. All trying to do better.

To see better.

And in heart, we see we are all the same tree, the same fruit, the same branches. 

And the music brings us together to clear that which we aren't. So we remember the family tree we came from.

 

Family picture

 

Dear blog,

                I’ve been pondering many things. It feels like my thoughts have been all rolled up into a ball, and I, trying to unstring them, knitting a word.

                To find some pattern.

                To unfold wings of a higher knowing, that just what is seen.

                And to use what is seen to point to the unseen.

                To take a family picture.

                The family tree of my own love.

                To paint with my seeing, a picture only I can see from my view.

                And to bring into form, the spirit, which weaves us all together, all the time.

                Pointing to a unity beyond what our minds can understand.

                But our hearts know it.

                And so to sing the song of the invisible, visible realm where love brings to form, its own living truth.

                So as the photographer has the camera, she pans out so she can see her family. All the faces.

                Stands away from the group, waits until there is moment, when everyone is all together. All hearts entwined.

                When there is perhaps a moment, where she can see a view, that shows the vastness of God’s heart.

                And all eyes are focused at the camera.

                And the camera is focused on the eyes.

                And we are all looking.

                Taking a picture.

                Of what we see, from where we stand.

                And from where you stand, and what you see, depends on how clear your Lense is.

                Yet it is all part of the picture.

                The beautiful seasons within each soul, shining out the facets of God’s masterpiece.

                Showing depth, and color, and sound, and breath, and texture, and feeling, and knowing, and connectedness, and dark, and light, and shadow, and contrast, and taste, and touch, and music, and poetry, and spaciousness, and largeness, and smallness, the story of God, woven into this fabric of life.

                And the grace of God’s gift to be able to have a view, that transcends, time, and space, and the individual parts. To feel the heartbeat of God within.

                And know that we, though seemly separate, so unique in all our flavors, and hues, and walks of life, are in fact, made out of the same cosmic heart, enfolded into it, embraced by it every moment, of every day.

                And sometimes, as we sing in the choir of life, we take cues from the conductor, to know when to come in, to come out, to pause, to be silent, to sing.

                To remember words we forgot.

                But if we look, and listen, we hear the sound.

                A symphony that reminds us that we are of one body, one tree. One song.           

                And our sound is that of the heart of humanity, and Gods intwined.

                A family picture, a song, a musical score, a divine play, an epic story.

And we write what we see, and feel, and know.

                And sometimes the weather, and the light changes, so you might take a picture at dusk.

                But its not always dusk.

                And you might take one at sunrise. Or sunset.

                Or a night.

                But if you have a good camera.

                It can take pictures under all circumstances. Because you have enough lenses.

                And we seek in this life, as we look into each other's souls, a photographer that can take a picture of the realist part of ourselves.

                And bring to light the dark places we ourselves cannot see.

                To develop in the darkroom of ourselfs, a picture that tell us a truth. Hidden in all the most obvious places.

To remind ourselves of those things that you can’t see close up.

The love invisible that weaves the tree, the roots and branches and leaves together.

The family, our ancestors, ones in the spaces there, too. They are here, as well, helping to bring us together. To remind us of our roots, to remind us of what is important, beyond what is seen.

                To take note, of those obscure and beautiful things.

                And here under the tree. Standing with my brothers and sisters.

                So much to see.

                Take picture.

                Everyone holding hands.

                Singing.

                The abundance of Gods love and grace always providing, proving himself over and over gain, there standing right next to you, inside you.

                Right there.

                Always.

                Spirit guiding you. Holding your sacred heart close.

                No distance at all.

                Never alone.

                Your family here, within, and without. Loving you, always.

                Snap a picture.

                Put it in your heart.

                So that you will always know, that the darkness is only there, to develop your soul.

                So you know how beautiful every part of God is.

                How beautiful the story.

                The fruit of love.

                A gift.

                A heart knowing that transcends mortal mind.

                Songs unutterable.

                But felt.

                A picture beautiful.

                A lense of Grace, showing you the hidden, and most beautiful parts.

                Hands holding you.

                God’s love and Presence enfolding you, in every moment. Loving you.

                A picture putting on your wall, and looking at to remind you.

                How big your family is.

                And how big God's heart is.

             

Friend who Can

. My dad sent me this song, a week or so ago, or at least a part of it.  I thought it was cute song with a good message.

 

Some good thoughts

Bess showed me this video yesterday. 

We thought it echoed many things Bess and I talk about. And it seems a strange thing, that most of us don't see how beautiful our land is.

Our homeland. It's natural goodness. Our natural skills, and talents, and innate knowings. 

 

To reawaken in ourselves, a remembrance of a time, when we didn't have to earn our own self love. 

When we didn't have to work so hard.

Where sun, and naps, and soft beings were our birthright. 

And we loved the land. And it loved us back.

 

Remember Me

 

                                    Remember me…

 

Yesterday my koto teacher was talking about something she did something to remember a relative by, similar to something my mom did this year, to remember her brother by. By baking his favorite recipe to share, and then handing the recipe out.

                She also talked about the movie Coco.

                                And the song, remember me.

 I decided to look the song up, as it’s been a while since I watched the movie. 

                            I listened to the song several times, and it made me cry. It pulled on something inside me.

                                As, it seems at times, extremely hard to remember, the me, beyond what we see, in ourselves, and others.

                          Many of us have traveled far.

                        Far away from who we really are.

                     And we search, not knowing, all we are looking for is a remembrance.

                      Past our many disguises.

                                It seems most us in life have forgotten our essential nature.

                                And that of others around us.

                                And if you are lucky, someone remembers, and gives you a song, a remembrance.

                                                And if you remember yourself, enough.

                                                You sing that song to others. As best you can.

                                                So they can remember too

                                                Most of the real us is hidden under many, many layers.

                                                So many masks.

                                                That we aren’t.

                                                Accumulations.

                                                And it’s hard to see through those things.

                                                So many Mothers, and Fathers, and brothers, and sisters, mostly forgetting, sometimes remembering.

                                                And as I look, and see all these things.

                                                The people that are difficult to love, and prickly, and mean, and angry.

                                                With many rules, so hard to navigate.

                                                I think spirit looks out. The great mother, and father of us all.

                                                And asks…

                                                To remember.

                                                The me that is hidden.

                                                The great mother hidden beneath all mothers, and daughters.

                                                The great father, hidden beneath all sons and fathers.

                                                Remember me…

                                                This is what I hear.

                                                Remember me…

                                                Looking into the eyes of the old, and young.

                                                Remember me…

                                                Remember a time when love was something you could tangibly see, and feel within each soul. And no one forgot.         

                                                Remember me.

                                                Is the song playing on most guitars. Most anyone singing. Doing a thing. Whatever the thing is that their doing.

                                                Remember me.

                                                Who is it that we are remembering?

                                                The soul.

                                                The real.

                                                The love we are made of.

                                                Everyone is here, in the way that they can be.

                                                And sometimes the way feels a little hard.

                                                But if we look within ourselves.

                                                And see.

                                                And we sing to ourselves.

                                                A remembrance.

                                                And then we sing our remembrance to those around us.

                                                And one day, we’ll all wake up, and remember…

                Ourselves.  

                   The one hidden beneath the many.

                    The field of love connecting us all, speaking through the cracks of life.

                    Shining through.

                    Showing us, piece by piece the masterpiece.

                    That life is.